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Fiction

The Primates

Samantha Neave visits a future where almost all animals have rights.

“People have been killing animals for millennia…” The Professor smiled sagely at the boy before him, who was adjusting his hazmat suit: “It’s just the human way… First there were hunter-gatherers, killing to eat. Then there was killing just for sport, and piling up meat in supermarkets. Now – there’s us!” He handed the boy a syringe filled with fluid as they both stared at the cage’s helpless inhabitant for a moment. “It’s alright,” he reassured the boy, whose hands were trembling. “It won’t feel a thing,” he lied.

Disinfectant pervaded the laboratory, with faint urine smells wafting through the air every time the scientist opened a cupboard. He was assessing his young apprentice the whole time, discreetly. They were usually like this to begin with. A combination of patience and education would do the trick. You became acclimatised to the job sooner or later, and he could tell that this boy was a quick learner, so he continued: “I’ll monitor its heart rate as you inject. Don’t be nervous – it’s restrained, so it can’t hurt you. Just do it swiftly and accurately… Are you ready?”

The boy bit his lip, inhaled, then nodded. His trainer turned to the monitor and waited. As his astute eyes watched the heart rate shoot up, he heard the usual screech from the subject, and the rasping breaths that followed. The line on the monitor zigzagged erratically. Finally, the line steadied, although at an enhanced rate of heartbeat. The scientist turned back to congratulate his protégé: “Well done, James! It’s not always easy to –” he barely missed a beat as he caught sight of a few tears welling up within the boy’s eyes “– do what’s necessary. But with time and practice you’ll become more accustomed to it.” He paused for a few moments to allow the boy time to regain his composure, but as the tears fell, the boy’s visor steamed up. He looked like a lost spaceman.

The scientist sighed. Sometimes the odd sentimental, sensitive soul did slip through the net. He patted his apprentice on the shoulder awkwardly. James winced, glanced up, and asked, “Are you sure testing on these creatures is the right thing to do?”

His mentor seemed taken aback by the question. “Would testing on us be right?” he countered.

The boy hesitated, and looked back at the test subject he’d just jabbed with the virus. “Well… What’s the difference?”

A soft laugh emitted from the Professor’s lips: “ Intelligence, my boy… We’re far more advanced than them. Besides, without us doing our job, the human race is doomed!”

“But surely we have a duty towards others?” Lines appeared as James’ brow knit together: “‘The question is not, can they reason? nor can they talk? but can they suffer?’.” But he quoted the line with more trepidation than conviction.

“Ah, Bentham!” the Professor smiled inquisitively. “Where did you read that?”

The boy shrugged. “Sprayed on a wall somewhere… under the bridge, as I passed through on the train.” He paused for a moment as his mentor continued to hold his gaze. When the next words fell from his lips, they were hushed, nervous: “Professor, shouldn’t all creatures be protected from pain?”

His superior’s eyes were hard to read for a few moments. “A long time ago… centuries ago, in fact,” the older man began quietly, glancing up at the CCTV on the wall, then turning slightly to inspect the temperature gauge, “philosophers did posit such a concept. Animal rights really took off in the late twentieth and twenty-first centuries as knowledge of the mistreatment of animals grew – thanks originally to Peter Singer and Tom Regan in particular, who advocated better treatment of animals…” He trailed off as he turned back and stared at the roomful of caged primates.

“What did they say?” his student prompted.

“Well… in a nutshell, they both argued that animals of all species should be included within the sphere of moral consideration, although they did so in different ways. Singer was a utilitarian, whereas Regan’s outlook was rights-based.” He glanced at the boy, whose eyes were wide with curiosity.

“A ‘utilitarian’?” James uttered the word unsurely.

The Professor sighed. In for a penny… “Utilitarians believe in a society where the interests of all individuals impacted by an action are considered equally. They believe in the greatest good for the greatest number – to encapsulate Bentham’s understanding. For animals rights activists like Singer, this translated to it only being alright to use animals for food if they live happy lives and are killed painlessly, and only being alright to experiment upon them in extreme circumstances, if the benefits to us outweigh the cost to the animals.” As he explained, he flipped through the charts in one of the nearby drawers, pausing every now and then to scrutinize a page.

“But what about the animals’ wishes? Shouldn’t all animals be allowed to live their lives out naturally?” James thought of his pet guinea pig at home. “Shouldn’t we treat every animal with the respect due to a life worth living, just because they’re alive?”

“Ah! This is where the rights-based views come in – like Regan’s.” The Professor seemed pleased. He replaced the folder. “Rights-based philosophers believed that all species have intrinsic value, and that it’s their capabilities as conscious beings which bestow moral rights upon them, thus, animal lives are as equally precious as ours. And therefore, they have the moral right to live in peace and be respected, which means not being killed for our purposes. But this is an impossible ideal. People petitioned for animal rights in the fullest sense of the word – but it was sadly unattainable.” He smiled, and James saw that his mentor was ready to move on, so he hastily blurted out, “That’s awful! What happened?”

The Professor sighed once more. His smile faded. He began to walk down the room, pointing to pieces of monitoring equipment with precise flicks of his gloved hands as James took notes of the readings. “The books these philosophers wrote were a reaction to what they perceived was going on at the time, such as cruel factory farming, many pointless and torturous experiments on helpless creatures, hunting them for furs or sport… And the animal rights movement made great strides. In the end, the activists won, and people revolted against unnecessary pain and suffering being caused to other species. They’d had enough of partaking in oppression. So, we stopped eating meat, stopped hunting for sport, stopped skinning for clothing. We even stopped experimenting on them unless it was crucial to our survival. And this is how we now live in peace!” The Professor finished with a flourish, although he felt tired. But his apprentice was thinking still: “So we took the utilitarian route?”

The Professor nodded.

“But the primates?” James muttered. “What about them? Where do they fit into this ‘peace’?” He glanced at the row of cages before them, then tore his eyes away, blinking, and dispersing tears within his helmet, fixing them on the Professor instead.

A shade of pain crossed the older man’s usually inscrutable face: “Well, the primates you see here are the price to be paid for medical advances, I’m afraid.”

He began leading James back to the first cage. “Since that time, it’s been necessary to pay all creatures their due respect. This is why we live off the land now. You don’t even know what an animal tastes like any more, do you? Besides, universal veganism was a rather brilliant solution to the starvation crisis. And isn’t that a good thing?” He forced a smile. “However… from time to time we must test our cures upon primates. Their reactions to medicine hold the key to curing the species at the top of the food chain, so to speak… Isn’t it better that the majority of humans live healthy lives due to their admittedly involuntary sacrifice? But these creatures aren’t merely sacrifices to a cause greater than themselves; they’re the true heroes of our world!” His voice was clamouring with passion, although he quickly checked himself.

“Heroes?” There was incredulity in the boy’s challenge. He motioned to the subject currently leaking moisture from her eyes. It was clear that she was crying. “What’s really changed, Professor? We’re no better now. We claim to care, but look! She’s in pain! And for what end? We don’t need a cure for this virus right now! So why are we testing it on her? When will they stop? When will the testing end?! What about her rights?”

At that moment two dark brown eyes flickered up miserably towards the two in their hazmat suits. She shifted a little as she looked at them, head bowed, on display naked, shaved, undignified, gagged, as she lay beneath her restraints. Not that she seemed to care – she seemed more preoccupied with the waves of pain washing over her, clenching her huge fists, squeezing her eyelids shut until James thought she might shuttle her eyeballs back into her brain.

“Yes, it will be in pain for a little while… but once we get the results, we’ll euthanize it and the pain will be over.” The Professor glanced once more at the camera above them. They couldn’t linger in this debate much longer. But when he looked at his apprentice again, he saw more tears appear. “Come, come…” he rallied gently, “We’re in the new era! This is the year five thousand! And as I said, the rights-based model was impossible to maintain absolutely… We tried it. We really did. And under the new rulings we only ever test on primates. And you know what happens if we fail to find a cure.”

James looked at one of the males to his right, and let a few droplets fall, barely seeing through his fogged-up visor. “Does it even matter? It’s not fair. We may as well be back in the year 2000!”

The Professor lowered his voice slightly: “It’s the age-old conundrum, boy. Us or them. Which would you rather die?”

His trainee looked miserable. The Professor squeezed his shoulder, and spoke softly again: “I know it’s hard… but you’ve read the manual, you know the score. It’s all out of control. We need to do something… and this is the only way. We’ve made some progress already, but we need permanent solutions. You’re an intelligent young man. You must learn to keep your emotions in check if you want to join us. Will you?”

There was a pause as James blinked vigorously while he processed what the Professor was saying. Eventually he looked at his superior with some resolve: “Yes, I understand. I know it’s necessary. I guess I just didn’t realise the cost of progress…” He trailed off – then seemed to realise something else: “Is that why there are so many zoos, too? I guess it’s a good way of conserving the species, even if it is commercial. At least they have some quality of life, and hope of a future.”

His mentor smiled at him: “That’s the spirit! Shall we resume?”

After a few more hours in the lab, the Professor oversaw their decontamination ritual then locked the door behind them. But as they proceeded down the corridor the alarm started wailing loudly. The Professor raised his arm quickly to signal that the boy shouldn’t speak: “Do as I do, and remain perfectly still,” he advised James discreetly, tugging James’ sleeve sharply so that they both came to a halt as one of the guards raced towards them. The guard leant in close, grunted, and waved his scanner. The Professor stretched his lapel out to display the ID pinned to his jacket. James did the same. The guard raised his scanner clumsily and pointed, misfiring drastically beyond the barcodes, then scrutinized both their faces, which were drowning in red light. He grunted again and scratched his head before pacing onwards. Then James caught sight of a silhouette fleeing from the opposite end of the corridor. The Professor gripped the boy’s arm and attempted to move forward: “Come! Let’s go back to base!” but James had frozen at the sight of the escapee. He could hear its screams as distinctly as the sirens resounding throughout the complex. Then, as it lumbered closer, stumbling from the virus injections and the wounds from shots fired, the primate cried out in pain and desperation: “Gregory! Help me! Won’t you help me?!” Blood trailed behind him as he limped towards them.

James looked up at the Professor, who had turned strangely pale as the creature repeated: “Greg, please! They’ll listen to you! They can’t do it without you, so they’ll listen to you! Remember when we were boys, before the uprising…? We used to play in the garden all summer long! Don’t you remember? And I always protected you… I always loved you. Won’t you protect me now?”

The Professor kept his eyes fixed on the man panting before him as more guards closed in. But plead as he might, he knew that nothing could save his brother.

A final shot incapacitated him, and three hairy guards fell on him, dragging him back by his heels. James felt a firm pull, and was torn away from the scene by the Professor.

Animal rights for human testing: the tables had finally turned.

Samantha Neave graduated from the Open University.